


And Then There Were Two

by TheEarlyKat



Series: Warden Leverette [3]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-23
Updated: 2016-02-23
Packaged: 2018-05-22 17:42:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6088657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEarlyKat/pseuds/TheEarlyKat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Are you that willing to die that you would lie there so in the face of danger?</i>
</p><p> </p><p>Levy Amell finds himself in a strange hut with a familiar woman after Ostagar.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And Then There Were Two

The waking world was no better than his dreams, and Leverette pressed his cheek further into the sweat-soaked pillow he lay on to muffle the screams and snarls that rang in his ears. The ogre still had his leg, clawed fingers digging deep in the skin and muscle to rasp against bone and more darkspawn sat on his chest and arms, keeping him still and struggling for every wheeze. Pain flashed hot and fast up his leg to dance along his spine like searing needles when he struggled. Something close, something dangerous hushed him with a word and a hand pressed against his forehead, nails pricking his temples. Leverette steeled himself with a shaky breath, preparing his words for when he met the Maker.

“Are you that willing to die that you would lie there so in the face of danger?” The hand was replaced by something cooler, a wet rag, and drops of water ran down his forehead to mix with the sweat in the sheets. His mouth opened as if to speak but his tongue ran across his lips first, dry and cracked, to catch what water was in reach. A cup was placed against his mouth and he drank. “Although I suppose there’s no running away this time, is there?” There was a laugh, this time further away, and something gripped his knee to roll the joint and he choked on the pain. “See what I mean? No? Look at me boy. Look.”

His vision swam between the pain and the bloodless, red and gray and blurry until he adjusted to the light. There were no darkspawn on his chest, merely tightly wrapped bandages around his torso and hands, and a heavy blanket weighing down his feet. An old woman stood at the foot of the bed, one hand on her hip, the other braced on the mattress, fingers played wide over a red stain - where his leg should have been. His eyes slipped closed with a shudder and he swallowed hard.

“The time for dreams is over now, Warden. Closing your eyes will not change what they see when they open again, no matter how tightly you shut them.”

Leverette shook his head, a small jerk of his chin enough to let the rag slip across his eyes and he pushed it back up before taking it off althogether, squeezing it in his hand and the rest of the water slipped through his fingers and he dropped it with another whimper. Like the bile he’d tried to swallow, like the magic he’d tried to hold onto, like the blood of the darkspawn and his own, hot against his skin as another body fell. Ostagar…was lost. The Wardens were lost. His leg was lost. All because he hadn’t stood, because he had panicked and grew weak when he was to be strong.

He dug the heels of his palms into his eyes and wiped away the tears that gathered.

“Not all is lost,” the woman said, watching him with a frown. “The other Warden, your friend, has been asking about you. Some might say loyal but I say bothersome. Insistent that he see you the moment you woke up. That would only get in my way so I sent him outside to wait for you. You can manage that, can’t you?” She left with another glance at his leg and he waited until the door finished swinging shut to push himself up into sitting.

The door was a long way away. It was just a few steps, but they were steps Leverette didn’t think himself capable of. He wrapped an arm around his middle to brace himself and used the other to balance against the bed, swinging his one good leg over the edge and refusing to look at the other. His arm trembled and he rose - leaning to on side and struggling forward one hop at time. Blood pattered to the floor with every shift, an ominous tempo to match his progress, and he threw himself against the door when he ran out of bed to hold himself upright.

Alistair was there in a moment with arms not shaking in shock and weariness and a tremble to his breath that spoke of only relief where Leverette gasped out his pain.

“I thought you - that wtich - you’re alive.” Leverette leaned into the hold, letting Alistair take the brunt of his weight. “Duncan’s dead. The King is dead - and the Grey Wardens…they’re all…and if it wasn’t for that witch’s mother we’d have joined them.”

“Name’s are useless but I’d prefer Flemeth over ‘that witch’s mother’.” She stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “You needed help and I offered my assistance. Do not make me regret it.”

“I…yes.”

Leverette pat his arm and Alistair helped him to a stump, hissing out a breath and letting magic stutter from his fingers in an attempt to ease the fire building beneath his skin. “We should have been left at the tower.”

“Should you now? And what would that have accomplished? Do you suppose some other Wardens would come to stop the Blight? That some necromancer would happen upon the battlefield and fill you with wisps so you could fulfill your duties? Shameful. I suspect I should have saved someone else, but you two were the only ones left standing.”

“And we thank you for that,” Alistair corrected, nudging Leverette with a hand to the back of his head.

“Oh, don’t thank me yet. Not before I give you the bad news.” She chuckled and stepped aside, and her daughter, the witch who’d stolen the treaties stood behind her. “Morrigan will be accompanying you.”


End file.
